


Where We Belong

by morgana07



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Big Brother Dean, Brothers, Fluff, Gen, Schmoop, Season/Series 10, Sleeping Sam, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-12
Updated: 2014-11-12
Packaged: 2018-02-25 02:45:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2605700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morgana07/pseuds/morgana07
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>1-shot. A short possible scene to what took place in the Impala after the end of ‘Fan Fiction’ as Dean finds himself thinking about what he saw, heard, and learned by seeing them through the eyes of their fans. *Contemplative/musing/big brother!Dean & a sleeping!Sam* SPOILERS to 10x05-Fan Fiction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where We Belong

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: None really except for spoilers and fluff and schmoop.
> 
> Tag: 10x05 Fan Fiction
> 
> Spoiler: Yes, there are some from the episode so be aware of this before reading.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own anything.
> 
> Author Note: This is just the muse’s take on giving some brotherly time and possible schmoop for the scene in the Impala at the end of 10x05 Fan Fiction. Enjoy!

**Where We Belong**

The rumble of the engine, the sounds of classic rock playing lowly from the speakers, the rattling of Legos in the heater since the night was chilly all made Dean Winchester more reminiscent than he already was as he glanced next to him.

At first when he and Sam had walked into the horror that was some fan’s interpretation of their lives he’d been shocked; then horrified to find out it was a musical. Stumbling on an actual case hadn’t made the play any better but it had actually reminded him of a few things that the last few years had made him forget, namely the young man currently sleeping beside him in the Impala’s front seat.

It was weird, once he got past the all-female cast, the songs, the not so subtle sub-text that once again reminded Dean that he seriously needed to find Chuck or Chuck’s spirit or something to do with Chuck and rip him a new asshole for even hinting things that allowed people to think there was more between them than normal brother stuff…and the hunter refused with all his might to even think about the other suggestions he’d picked up on back there in Michigan.

But what was weirder was seeing their lives through the eyes of a fan. It was weird to see their parents or…what was meant to be their parents the night it had all gone wrong. It was strange to think that she’s hit the nail on the head in how Sam looked at him or even how Dean looked at himself much less his brother.

He glanced over again at Sam to smile a little softer since he knew it was just him awake to see it as he noticed the way that Sam had turned to slouch against the passenger door; shoulder tucked in with his head resting on his hand…like he used to sleep when things weren’t so stressed or tense…before Dean had gone to Hell and their lives had literally followed.

Dean reached one hand toward Sam, hovering over his shoulder but held back from actually touching his brother when his eyes caught sight of the prop that he’d been given that represented his amulet…or the Samulet as he learned it was called in their fandom, the symbol of his and Sam’s brotherly bond.

He’d almost refused to take it, had in fact tried to refuse since he’d said he didn’t need anything to remind him of his bond with Sam but after seeing the quick flash of emotion on Sam’s face earlier when he hung that chunky looking prop on the rearview mirror Dean once again was reminded of how badly he’d screwed up when he tossed it five years ago.

Seeing a shiver run through Sam made Dean think of something else so he found a good spot off the deserted highway to pull off, left the car running while he slipped out to go pop the trunk.

Rummaging around until he found what he was looking Dean was careful when he shut the trunk so it didn’t jaw the car and wake Sam up but he paused on his way back to the driver’s door when a sudden ray of light from the full moon shined into the back of the car to hit the green Army man still stuffed in the ashtray.

Flicking his eyes to the back window he easily could still pick out the scrawled initials that had gotten his ass tanned by their father but it was a small price to pay to keep Sam out of the trouble and to make his brother happy. It was also one of three things that no matter how often Dean rebuilt this car that he always made sure to leave intact or replace in some manner.

The hunter took a deep breath of the cool night air to look up at the stars while leaning against the side of his car and thinking about how many of those quiet moments he and Sam had shared while sitting on the hood, drinking beers and just talking…not that he’d ever admit to calling it what he’d been informed it was called or else he’d have to cut his own tongue out.

Dean got back behind the wheel and just sat there to think about things. He thought of recently but he also thought about the past. He thought of Sam when he’d been that six month old chubby baby he’d cling to in the back seat. He thought of the promises to always take care of his little brother against whatever came. He thought of that boy who had looked up to him to have all the answers, to always be the cocky no chick flick moments big brother that had always had Sam’s back…to be the brother that had taught Sam to be the man he was today.

Switching cassette tapes to one of his more worn ones, the beginning tracks of ‘Carry on My Wayward Son’ came on and Dean felt a smile curving his lips while he gently draped the battered and worn leather jacket that had once belonged to their Dad and then to Dean until he’d stopped wearing it after he thought he’d lost his brother to the Cage; a jacket that still smelled of leather and gun oil…a jacket that had always been something Sam reached for when sick, cold, or hurt and something his fingers seemed to gravitate to now as it settled over him.

“Hunting things, saving people…the family business,” Dean murmured to the dark car. “Back on the road, together against the world,” he glanced over again to notice that Sam’s one hand had been in his pocket since they’d stopped for gas earlier and his brother had been searching in the trunk for something while Dean was inside paying. “They’re right. It’s where we belong, little brother.”

Sam stirred a little as he reached up to pull the leather jacket tighter around himself like he would before. He murmured something in his sleep while his fingers continued to roll whatever he was holding in his pocket around like he would when he would latch on and hold…

Dean’s eyes moved down while feeling an odd little jerk in his chest as he wondered if maybe, even after all the hell he’d given Sam these past five years if his brother had hung on to the item he suspected Sam had retrieved that day in the motel room when he’d been pushed to the wall and gave up on them as brothers.

The amulet had been the item that had connected them. It had once meant so much to him, to Sam, that when he had tossed it away that he’d regretted it but by then couldn’t go back. Dean had hated himself, had hated the pain in Sam’s eyes for months after that whenever his brother’s eyes would go to the spot on his chest where that little horned bronzed amulet had rested for so many years. He seen the look in Sam’s eyes tonight at even a prop version and had a hunch what his brother was clutching now in his pocket but would leave it up to Sam when or if he ever felt safe enough to bring it up.

Until then Dean would look at the one hanging on the Impala’s mirror and keep remembering the times behind them, the times when they’d actually acted like brothers…like they were slowly becoming again.

Putting the Impala in gear again, Dean got them back on the road and wondered why it had taken the simple words of a fan, a writer with her own views to how their lives should be or might be in her world, to make him see things clearer than he had in years; to make him Sam clearer than he had in years while he reached into a pocket in his own jacket to finger something he’d been carrying around for the last few weeks but hadn’t yet put on again.

He’d stopped wearing his silver ring around the same time as he has his jacket and the black rubber bracelet that he and Sam had both worn once. He’d been carrying both since waking up this last time and considered putting the items back on even as a soft sound was heard from beside him and Dean’s next reaction was from the heart.

Reacting from the heart hadn’t been something the hunter let himself do recently. It had happened earlier backstage with Marie when she’d given one half of the brotherly banter that he and Sam had once used. Dean hadn’t stopped to think when the word was tossed out he tossed his counter right back and then had to stop to think how long it had been that he and his brother had been at ease with one another that Sam felt safe enough to try to banter with him. He also realized how wrong it had felt when he’d used that with Crowley.

When he reacted this time at a soft sound of unease from his sleeping brother it was to reach over to lightly rest his fingers on the back of Sam’s neck, gently squeezing it in the same soothing way that he had ever since Sam was a kid and looking for support.

“I’ve got your back, Sammy,” he spoke quietly, feeling Sam slowly relax under the familiar touch that Dean was so glad that his brother didn’t tense from like he feared he would given how things had been between them. “It might not be easy, we might still have some issues and I might object to any attempts to get me to share my feelings or whatever Marie was writing but…this is where we belong and this road we’re on is how we’ll go out one day. Just you and me, little brother.”

Sam didn’t wake up but Dean had a hunch his brother shared these feelings and that somehow a simple, if badly written, play brought them back to a place that they hadn’t been in too many years and Dean felt better about it, them, their lives than he had in even more years.

Keeping his hand on Sam’s neck to help his brother stay asleep, Dean settled in behind the wheel as he smiled fully and drove on; the road clear and the hunter hoped it stayed that way for them and between them as they faced whatever came after them.

“G’night, Sammy,” he said on instinct with another squeeze of his fingers, hearing a mumble come from beside him that caused him to smirk even though he knew his brother was asleep and just responding out of some long ago instinct to complain about the music Dean played.. “Shut up, it’s a classic and you know the rules…driver picks the music and shotgun shuts his cakehole.”

As Dean went back to driving, his fingers steady on Sam’s neck he missed the small smile that curved his brother’s lips as Sam drifted back to sleep, content and confident in the rebuilding of their bond as he did so.

**The End**


End file.
